


Never Realized

by RileyC



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Doyle
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-24
Updated: 2010-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-06 16:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyC/pseuds/RileyC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holmes turns to Watson for advice on the mysterious matter of romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Realized

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fanfromfla](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Fanfromfla).



"Watson," Sherlock Holmes was hunched over his chemical table, engaged in some abstruse experiment, "I suppose we must look upon you as our resident Lothario."

Startled, Watson lowered his newspaper. "I would hardly say that, Holmes."

Holmes turned to regard him with thoughtful curiosity. "Well, your experience over three continents--"

"Was neither as profligate or as expansive as you may have been imagining." What chain of observation and deduction may have led his friend to this line of conversation, Watson could not fathom. Romantic dalliances of the past could not have been further from his thoughts.

"No? Well, perhaps not," Holmes said, and Watson knew he must be imagining the nervous quiver in his voice. "Still," Holmes stood and walked over to the fireplace, "one must allow you are not inexperienced in the art of courtship."

Watson set his paper aside and uncrossed his legs, moved to go over and join him but some inner sense telling him to bide where he was for the moment. "I suppose that's true," he said. "Holmes, I…" The only explanation he could think of for this topic seemed to beggar credulity. Yet what else could it be? "Holmes," he cleared his throat delicately, "do you require … tutoring in the matter?"

With a look somewhere between relief and embarrassment, Sherlock Holmes shot him a quick smile. "Yes, a … a syllabus of sorts."

Caught entirely unawares by such a request, Watson hit upon the only plausible explanation. "This is regarding a case?"

As if eagerly seizing upon that explanation, Holmes gave him an affirming nod. "Yes, of course that's it. My dear, Watson," he added with a charming smile, "do forgive me. I've quite got into your habit of telling a story the wrong way 'round."

And if that explanation carried something disingenuous about it, John Watson was prepared to patiently await a fuller explanation. "Pray, start again then," he commanded, in playful imitation of Holmes' usual imperious manner.

Holmes scored him a touch with a twitch of an eyebrow. Then, taking his usual seat opposite, long fingers steepled before him, he said, "A matter of some delicacy presented itself while you were on holiday--"

"Did it? When I asked this morning if you had had any cases, you replied in the negative."

It was Holmes' turn to be startled. "Yes, well," he began, and only an intimate companion would have marked any fumbling for words, "as I said, it is a matter requiring discretion."

"A situation which has changed in the twelve hours since breakfast?"

Holmes gave him a long and pensive look, grey eyes full of mysteries. "Twelve hours can be a great deal of time, Watson."

Indeed it could, Watson thought, holding that gaze. He had lately found that twelve days could seem an eternity.

"I find I need to assume a role, Watson," Holmes continued, picking his words with care and watching to see their effect, "for which I find myself ill-equipped."

"That of a wooing lover?"

Holmes replied with a quick nod. "You have it, Watson."

Struck momentarily speechless, Watson could not determine which concept was the more astonishing: the idea of Holmes assaying such a part, or his confessed lack of experience in love matters. "My dear fellow," he said at last, when he could see his friend growing uncomfortable, "surely you exaggerate the meagerness of your knowledge?"

Coloring a bit and averting his gaze, Holmes said, "I quite assure you, my dear Watson, that I neither overstate nor diminish my areas of expertise."

"But how--" Watson sat back, needing more time to digest this. Here was a man of thirty, in the prime of life, strikingly attractive in so many ways, and possessed of no inconsiderable charm, and yet he had never--? "Holmes…" He leaned forward again, trying to capture those grey eyes. "No experience, at all?"

Preferring the view of the fire blazing in the grate, Holmes said, "No, Watson, none whatever." His shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. "Such matters never seemed of any importance to me before."

"But now that's changed?"

"With regard to this case, yes."

"Of course, the case. Well," it hurt him to see what this was costing his friend, and he certainly would not let him down now, "I am certainly at your disposal, Holmes. How may I help?"

Holmes gave him a look of gratitude to be past this part. "Thank you. So, how … does one begin?"

Exhaling a deep breath, Watson said, "Well, if an acquaintance has been established, one makes conversation."

"About what?" Holmes asked, watching him intently.

"About," Watson shrugged, "ephemeral matters, to start with at least. Fashions and the minor scandals overheard at garden parties, that sort of thing," he said, not missing the look of distaste that crossed Holmes' face. He hastened to add, "There are some young ladies with whom one may discuss more substantial matters, but it's generally best to wait until one discovers that for certain." Watson gave him a searching look. "Can you gauge the level of," he hesitated but an instant, "intimacy that may exist at present?"

Holmes looked back at him, startlingly exposed for an flash. "I … believe there is a degree of understanding established." He swallowed, looked away again, glanced back. "And from conversing one may proceed onward to…?"

Watson glanced down at his boots, noticing for the first time that he had scuffed the left toe rather badly at some point in the day. "One could hold hands," he said.

"Hold hands?"

He looked up to meet those inquisitive eyes. "Yes. To … clasp the hand of one you hold dear is reckoned very agreeable. Rather stimulating, actually," he added, breaking off with am embarrassed cough.

"Truly?"

"Indeed."

After a moment's contemplation, Holmes got up from his chair and came to sit beside Watson on the sofa. "And how does one accomplish this?"

Watson gave him another probing look. "Like this, perhaps," he said, laying his own hand atop Holmes' where it rested on a sofa cushion.

Adam's apple bobbing with an unguarded gulp, Holmes asked, "It wouldn't be considered too forward?"

"Not where there is a," Watson stroked his fingers slowly across the knuckles, "a degree of understanding."

"And," Holmes licked his lips as Watson turned his hand palm upright and lightly brushed the tips of his fingers, "what else might be," his breath caught as Watson tickled his palm, "might be … achieved?"

"The usual thing," Watson stumbled over the words, a thrill shooting up his spine as his friend, emboldened by knowledge, twined their fingers together, "the usual thing," he tried once more, "would be to … kiss."

"To kiss?"

"Yes."

"And … are there secrets to that as well?"

Watson smiled. "There are indeed," he said. "Secrets, and mysteries revealed," he added, encouraged to go so far as to reach with his other hand and touch that thin, ascetic face.

A quick flinch of shock, grey eyes growing wide as Watson conquered that alarm, stroking a thumb along a high cheekbone. "Revelations?" he whispered.

"Revelations and wonders," Watson said softly. He tasted both as, his hand slipping around to cradle the back of Holmes' head, dark strands of hair slipping between his fingers, he leaned close to touch thin lips with his own.

"Oh…"

The word, the sound, filled with wonder and agony and exultation, was moaned against his mouth, and Watson drew back. "Holmes--"

Wrenching away from him, Sherlock Holmes crossed quickly to the fireplace, arms braced against the mantle as though desperately needing its support. "Watson, forgive me. I owe you a thousand apologies."

Hesitating hardly a trice, Watson got up from the sofa and approached him. "For what?" he asked.

"Deceiving you just now."

Watson smiled. "And where was there deception?"

Holmes bowed his head, his words almost too soft to hear. "There is no case, Watson."

"I deduced as much." Watson touched his back, felt him start … felt him calm and gentle as he gently massaged tautly strung muscle, his caress slowly drifting upward, fingers sliding into the black silk of his hair once more.

"You … deduced?"

"About the time you asked me to hold your hand." Or, possibly, somewhat earlier.

"I see."

"Do you?" Watson moved him so they faced each other, keeping none of his feelings hidden as Holmes' searching gaze roamed his features.

"Perhaps … only a glimmer as yet," Holmes admitted, lowering his eyes.

Watson cupped his chin, raising him up. "Then allow me to shed further illumination," he said, and pulled him into a longer, deeper kiss, that he trusted would leave no room for doubt.

~*~  
"Do you really have no experience?" With the evidence in his arms of a very responsive and passionate lover, Watson could hardly credit that.

"Until this evening, John, no, none at all."

They were on the sofa, only somewhat disheveled, the only light coming from the blazing fire. Resting back against the cushions and holding Holmes to him, Watson stroked his hair, nuzzled his temple. "I suppose I must revise that paper I drew up then, describing the limits of your knowledge," he said, gently teasing.

"I rather think not," Holmes said with a definitive air.

"No," Watson agreed, "especially as those gaps in your knowledge will shortly be addressed."

"Yes," Holmes sat up, facing him, reaching for him, "and I do expect you to make a very thorough job of it, my dearest Watson," he said, and claimed another kiss.

~all~

_I never realized what a kiss could be  
This could only happen to me..._

\- "I Should Have Known Better," Lennon &amp; McCartney


End file.
